


Finifugal

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Assault, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Gore, Breaking and Entering, Comfort, Cuddling, Dark Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fake Character Death, Forehead Kisses, Imagined Character Death, Implied/Referenced Future Character Death, Kissing, Murder, Murder Husbands Hunting, Nightmares, Post Season 3, Post-The Wrath of the Lamb, Really Dark Will, Vengeful Hannibal, did i mention the comfort?, lots of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: Alana wakes from a terrible dream, and Margot is there to take care of her.





	Finifugal

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive's [#EatTheRare](http://hannibalcreative.tumblr.com/post/147505188389/the-hannibal-fandom-is-not-only-a-creative-and) fest. I've always wanted to write Marlana, and I got a little kick to do it today. Please make sure you check the tags! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Alana opens her eyes to find the room ice cold. It takes her a minute to adjust to the light, blinking slowly and rolling her head back of hopes of falling into the hands of sleep once more- that is until reality seizes her.

_It shouldn’t be this cold._

_The windows are open._

Before she has time to get out of bed- before she has time to run- he crawls on top of her and pins her to the bed. A heavy knee to her groin, rough hands against her arms; Hannibal has her and all she can do is move her head and wail.

_"Margot!”_

She wants warn her, to give her a chance. She knows this isn’t the fate she deserves.

But it’s too late- it’s too late for both of them. It always has been.

Will moves just as swiftly as his partner, if not with a fraction more grace. He straddles Margot at the waist and holds her down with the sheer force of fear. From the moment Margot awakens, she is trapped. Frozen.

_“Hello, Alana.”_

Hannibal speaks with the same soothing, even tone that he always has- the same tone that once brought her comfort, that once lured her into feelings of safety. It makes him feel heavier.

Alana begins to cry, and Hannibal allows it. He brushes the back of his hand against her cheek and it turns her stomach. She strains, she kicks- anything she can think of to get him to get off of her; to give her even a second to flee, to save Margot, to save _Morgan_. But Hannibal’s presence only grows with her struggle.

Alana focuses back on Margot.

Her wide eyes are the only thing moving, flashing from Alana’s terror, to Hannibal’s dark silhouette. He’s not even looking at her, but that gives her no comfort. She can feel Will’s eyes drilling into her neck.

When Margot does finally look to will, she becomes immediately fixated. Will is playing with her; teasing the tip of a knife over his fingertips with an unmistakable smirk on his face. Alana sees a tear form and roll from the corner of her eye, collecting into the hairline at her neck. She’s shutting down.

Alana’s gaze snaps back up to Hannibal.

_“Hannibal, please.”_

She doesn’t know why she would try and beg. She knows he has no inclination to listen to her. Hannibal’s soft chuckle is the only declaration of him even hearing her.

_“Look at your wife.”_

Alana follows his instruction to see that Will has turned Margot’s head to look at her too. His fingers press obscenely against the flesh of her cheek. Her mouth moves around words she can’t remember how to speak. She looks like she’s drowning.

_“Tell her you love her.”_

It feels as though Hannibal has reached inside of her and ripped away her heart. Alana opens her mouth in a sob.

" _I love you.”_

Hannibal brushes her cheek again, as if she’d done a good job. He’s comforting her, petting her.

_“Margot?”_

At the call of her name in his accented-laden voice, Alana sees the light in Margot’s eyes spark, then break. She’s back in the room with them, no longer locked in the cycling of her mind.  

_“I love you too.”_

Margot’s words are pressurized. Each time her mouth opens she feels as though her heart may burst from her throat.

_“I love you. I love you. I love you.”_

Will moves like a fluid; placing his knife behind her ear, and pulling it in a controlled line. Her throat opens in a spray, drenching Alana and spurting against the underside of Will’s jaw. Alana tries to look away but Hannibal makes her watch, keeping his hand on her cheek.

Will brings the knife up and stabs in into Margot’s chest. Alana hears it break into her. She hears the springs of the mattress complain as he breaks into them too. He pulls the knife from her and stabs into her again, and again, until her décolletage turns into softened, red meat. Unrecognizable.  

Will’s lips curl in a snarl, quivering with power and sense of exhilaration. Alana hears herself begging again, but she doesn’t know for what. Margot is already dead. Will is mutilating Margot for the effect; He’s doing this to hurt _her._ He’s _enjoying_ hurting her.

Begging won’t do any good, she knows, but she tries again anyway. She can’t help it.

_“Will, please.”_

Will turns to her with a serenity on his face that she has never seen.

_“You did this, Alana.”_

He’s freckled with Margot’s blood and he’s smiling as he speaks. He’s really smiling. The side of his mouth cracks open, and he almost laughs.

_“He gave you a choice.”_

Will extends the knife to Hannibal, who takes it with the same peaceful smile on his lips. He nods at Will in a silent-kind of thank you, before turning his attention back to Alana.

She knows her death will be less violent, but there is no comfort in that. She understands that watching this was just a part of her punishment- like when she took all of Hannibal’s belongings. Hannibal just wants her to know that he took this from her, before he takes the rest of her life away.

She wonders if Morgan knows this is happening. She wonders if they’ve already dealt with him, or if he’s next.

_“Will…”_

Hannibal brings the knife to Alana’s neck, teasing her flesh with the blade. It’s sharp and warm with blood, but the presence is tender.

_"Will, don’t let him hurt Morgan.”_

She can’t believe she was so senseless to have believed she could have outrun him. Senseless to believe that she could survive. She put them all in danger by running with _them. She should have left them behind._

_"I won’t hurt him, Alana.”_

Hannibal pulls the blade across her throat. Pain shoots from the opening wound to the top of her head, and the bottoms of her feet. She’s choking, trembling. Her vision blurs, black to white and back.

_"He belongs to me.”_

-

Alana opens her eyes to find herself cradled in Margot’s arms. Her face is tucked into her chest and Margot’s hands holding the side of her neck. Her skin is as soft as the silk she wears, and she smells like day old perfume.

She’s warm. She’s gentle. She’s alive.

_“Hey baby, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay.”_

The sound of Margot’s voice is radiant. She hums and rocks herself back and forth, rocking Alana’s shaking body with her. She kisses the top of her head.

Alana is cold to the touch, covered in tears and sweat. She’s still whimpering a stream of panicked words that don’t make sense, but Margot knows it will subside soon. She’s willing to wait.

_“He’s here.”_

The sudden confidence in Alana’s words shocks them both but, after a moment, Margot knows this is just residue from the nightmare.

_“No he’s not.”_

Margot tries to assure her, but Alana begins to pull from her. She wants to go look. She wants to check every window, every lock on every door. Margot knows from experience that if she lets her get out of bed, she’ll never come back. She’ll sit in front of Morgan’s bedroom door with a loaded gun. She’ll be up and on edge until the sunrises.

_“You can’t know that. You can’t. He could be-”_

Alana tries to create a compelling argument, but her slipping mind suddenly finds a solid place to relax- finally letting her have her stability back. She knows that it’s just a dream now. She knows she’s not going to die tonight.

_It was just a dream._

_“Alana, listen to me.”_

Margot takes Alana by either side of her face. She makes her look at her, and studies the stress in her eyes. She’s pretty when she cries, but it pains her to see her like this- to know the agony this fear is causing her. She plants a kiss on her forehead.

_“We’re safe.”_

She kisses each cheek, under each eye. She tastes tears as they collect against her lips.

_“I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”_

Finally, she kisses Alana on her own lips. Chaste and quick, but it still sends a beaming vibration through Alana’s body. It cuts through the fear like silver through warmed butter.

_“I promise.”_

Alana finds comfort in the words, comfort in her company and embrace, but she knows…she knows it isn’t a promise that Margot can keep.


End file.
